Snow Day
by TheJesusFreak777
Summary: Scipio is uncertain how to answer his daughter's tricky questions.


It was snowing in Venice for the first time that year. A blizzard, really. The temperatures dropped frighteningly low and the canals were covered in a thin layer of ice. They were snowed in and confined to their apartment. Scipio feared he would go mad. He needed fresh air but Hornet insisted that Zita stay inside, out of fear of her catching illness. Scipio personally thought this was ridiculous (they had coats, after all), and while Hornet bore her way to work at the hospital through the snow, he took Zita outside and they played.

It was a relief to Scipio to be outside. He was restless and tired of being cooped up inside the apartment and frankly he needed space. They had already exhausted their collection of board games and coloring books. Hornet thought she knew what was best for Zita, but Scipio was also ninety-nine percent certain that if she was bundled up she wouldn't get sick. So he kissed Hornet goodbye as she headed off to work, wrapped in a peacoat and headscarf, her gloved hands shoved inside her pockets. As soon as she had trudged her way around the block, Scipio turned around to Zita.

"Where's your coat, Zita?"

"In the closet," she answered, looking up from where she was coloring in a page.

Scipio headed down the hall to the coat closet and found it. "Come on, let me bundle you up." She stood obediently as he zipped up her coat. "Do you have gloves?"

"Somewhere," Zita said vaguely.

Scipio sighed. "Here, wear mine." He handed them to her.

"Didn't Mamma say to stay inside-"

"Mamma's at work," Scipio answered. "We can go out, just don't tell her when she gets home."

"Bene," she replied, untroubled. She slid the gloves over her hands. "Papà, my fingers are stuck," she complained.

He quickly adjusted her gloves and wrapped a scarf around her neck. "Let's go outside, but you've got to promise me that you won't tell Mamma."

"I promise!" she said eagerly.

Scipio smiled at her and grabbed her hand. "Come on," he said. He led the way down the stairs and opened the door. A blast of cold air hit them at once, and he pulled her hood down over her ears.

"It's-s-s s-s-s-so c-c-cold," she chattered animatedly, shivering.

Scipio gave her his earmuffs. "Come on," he chided. "Don't you want to play?"

This seemed to cheer her up, and she plodded alongside him through the deserted streets. The canals were abandoned to the weather and Scipio only caught sight of one person far off sweeping snow off of their balcony. They trekked along the sidewalk, close to the buildings. He made sure Zita didn't stray too close to the canal.

"Are we almost there?" she asked, a hint of a whine to her voice. He couldn't much blame her, as the snow was as high as her boots. He lifted her up on his shoulders and trudged through the walk until they had reached their destination: Giardinia Papadopoli. It was normally a green park, but today it was covered in a blanket of white.

"What are we going to do?" she queried, sliding off of his shoulders. She looked so tiny against the snow, Scipio realized with a protective pang. Zita was only six years old.

She had been born a surprise, and the best surprise he had ever gotten. He and Hornet hadn't actually been trying to have a baby, but when Zita arrived it was as if a missing part of his life had finally been found, completed. She was, simply put, the best thing to ever happen to him.

But he was not immune to the stress that came with raising a child. Hornet had become increasingly cross as the days passed and more involved with work as they struggled to pay rent and juggle the costs of an extra body to feed, clothe, shelter, and educate. Victor Getz was older now and pickier with the cases he chose. Hornet worked as a nurse and was gone for days at a time on call. Victor and Ida were currently on holiday and Scipio was out of work until they returned, which caused no end of Hornet's irritability. In all honesty-and he felt awful for confessing it, even to himself-Scipio was glad they had the day apart so she could blow off steam.

"Papà, let's make snow angels!"

So he fell to the ground next to her and they made snow angels. He pushed the snow with his arms and legs until he was shivering with cold and ice had fallen down his back. He sat up to see Zita smiling, eyes closed, at the sky. She had stopped moving and her gloves were caked with white. Flakes clung to her eyebrows and lashes. Her face was pink.

"Papà," she began, sounding tentative, "why are you older than Mamma?"

He chuckled uncomfortably, wary of the direction the conversation was leaning. "I was born before Mamma."

"Yes, but-" She broke off with a frown and her eyes opened.

"But what?" he asked softly.

"You look much older than her," she replied.

"People age differently, _tessoro_." Scipio kept his voice neutral.

"Yes, but…" She paused. "Will I age like you or Mamma?"

He laughed. "Like Mamma."

"But why?"

"I just know."

She grew quiet. Scipio thought of that merry-go-round and hardened his resolve. If given the chance to redo things, he would have never hopped on that infernal contraption. Being an adult, a grown-up, had sounded so appetizing. Now he wished he had stayed a child and grown up normally, if it meant he would live longer to watch Zita grow up. He was certain that his health would fail him much earlier than it did Hornet.

"Papà, I'm cold," she murmured, jolting him from his thoughts.

Scipio picked her up and let her on his shoulders. "Let's go home. Your mother will never forgive me if you catch cold." They made it back to the apartment much quicker than they had left. Scipio went to the restroom and when he returned Zita was already asleep on the sofa, her coat lying abandoned on the floor. He smiled and kissed her on the forehead before tucking her in with a blanket. "I love you, _tessoro_." He said it so softly the words scarcely left his lips.

Maybe...Maybe if he hadn't rode that merry-go-round he would have Zita. And that certainly made all the difference.


End file.
